He was scratching it when he entered the church.
“Morgan Pierce.”
Nathan stood.
Boone pretended not to see him.
“You’re under arrest.”
“For what?”
“Arson.”
I stared at him.
“My house burned.”
“Caldwell’s stable caught fire shortly afterward.”
“I wasn’t anywhere near his stable.”
“Witness says otherwise.”
Nathan asked, “Which witness?”
Boone swallowed.
“Official matter.”
Nathan showed his badge.
“So am I.”
Boone finally looked at him.
“That badge doesn’t give you authority over county charges.”
“You’re right.”
Nathan reached into his coat.
“This does.”
He produced another document.
Boone read it.
His face drained.
“What is that?” I asked.
Nathan never looked away from the sheriff.
“Authority to detain any local officer suspected of obstructing the territorial investigation.”
Boone’s hand drifted toward his gun.
Nathan’s did not move.
“Sheriff,” he said softly, “you are having a very bad day.”
The deputies looked uncertain.
Boone scratched his cheek again.
Then a rifle cracked outside.
The church window exploded.
Nathan threw me to the floor.
A second shot punched through the wall.
People screamed.
Nathan rolled toward the doorway.
“Stay down!”
More shots.
Samuel dragged two children behind a pew.
The sheriff’s deputies scattered.
One ran outside.
A bullet struck him in the shoulder.
Nathan fired through the broken window.
Someone cried out.
Then hoofbeats thundered away.
When the shooting stopped, Nathan was bleeding.
A bullet had grazed his ribs.
I found him leaning against the altar.
“Sit.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re bleeding.”
“I’ve done both before.”
I tore cloth from the hem of my borrowed underskirt and pressed it against his side.
He winced.
“You always this gentle?”
“No.”
For the first time in two days, he smiled.
Then I noticed something hanging from his neck.
The bullet had torn his shirt.
A small silver pendant rested against his chest.
I recognized the crest immediately.
A letter C surrounded by wheat.
The Caldwell family mark.
I stopped breathing.
Nathan followed my gaze.
His smile vanished.
“What is that?”
He said nothing.
“Nathan.”
Outside, men were tending the wounded.
Inside the church, the truth arrived quietly.
“My mother’s name was Sarah Ellis.”
“And?”
He closed his eyes.
“My father’s name is Victor Caldwell.”
I moved away from him.
“No.”
“Yes.”
“You’re Victor’s son?”
Nathan nodded.
The room seemed to shift around me.
“He never married my mother. Never acknowledged me. When she died, he offered me money to disappear.”
Nathan looked toward the shattered window.
“I disappeared.”
“You said Caleb told me to trust you even when I discovered who you were.”
“Yes.”
“You were the secret?”
“One of them.”
I laughed bitterly.
“How many secrets did my husband leave behind?”
“Enough to get himself killed.”
The cruelty of that sentence struck us both.
Nathan looked away.
“I’m sorry.”
I sat opposite him.
“Did Caleb know?”
“Everything.”
“How?”
“He found me.”
Nathan’s eyes softened.
“Three years ago.”
I stared.
“He knew you for three years?”
“He suspected Caldwell had been stealing land. He needed someone outside town. Someone Victor couldn’t buy.”
“And he chose Victor Caldwell’s son?”
“He chose the one man he knew hated Victor more than he did.”
That hurt for reasons I did not understand.
Caleb had possessed an entire hidden life.
